Flip the Script
by PinkElephant5
Summary: A series of one-shot scenes connected by a premise: these are things they never thought they'd say. Caskett-centric, but any and all characters are fair game. PART 5: Would you please just kick my...
1. Thanks for calling, Jim

_Like the description says, this is the first in a series of mini-scenes connected by one premise: things they never thought they'd say. They are set somewhere in the realm of new-ish __Caskett, and they are not in any particular order. They may or may not morph into fuller stories in the future._

* * *

**Thanks for calling, Jim.**

* * *

It was a paperwork day.

Beckett didn't mind so much. A day with no bodies meant time to catch up. She had almost forgotten what color the bottom of her inbox was. Her team had fielded several back-to-back and even overlapping cases lately, which meant a mounting pile of forms and reports.

"So where's your boy today?" asked Esposito, chin-deep in his own mound of bureaucracy.

"Meetings with his publisher," she said. "He expected them to go late."

"Just as well," said Ryan. "He usually gets us in trouble on paperwork days."

On the rare occasions when Castle came in when there wasn't an active case, he usually found some way to prevent the rest of them from getting anything productive done. Last time he had baited Ryan and Esposito into a debate about whether brains stored in jars felt more or less like Jell-O over time. Kate had finally hauled all three of them into Lanie's office to use the ME's specimens to settle the bet (because of course it had become a bet), just so she could salvage the rest of the work day. Unfortunately, that's not the way Gates saw it when she asked them where they'd all disappeared to for half the afternoon.

Then there were other, more private distractions, like the time he talked her into taking a long lunch break at the loft. She suppressed a grin at that memory; the actual lunch portion of that lunch had been minimal. So maybe his paperwork allergy wasn't always unwelcome, but if she wanted to spend the weekend having fun with Castle instead of sitting at this desk some more, it was good that he was absent today.

She was finishing up yet another set of case notes when her cell phone rang.

"Beckett," she answered. "Oh, hi, did you get my message? Yeah, he'll be tied up until late." She listened. "We could, but then he would whine about it from now until next month." She chuckled. "Thanks, I appreciate that. I know it's last minute, but does Saturday work for you instead? Great. What? Oh, bring whatever sounds good. Perfect. Thanks for calling, Jim. See you Saturday."

Esposito glanced up from his desk. "Since when do you call your dad "Jim"?"

Kate returned her attention to her computer screen and kept her voice nonchalant. "No, that was just a friend of Castle's. This meeting at Black Pawn came up at the last minute, and he was supposed to host poker night tonight. He asked me to help him reschedule the game."

"Must be nice to have a social secretary."

"Oh, Castle is well aware of how lucky he is."

"And how big he owes you?"

"Yep."

They all returned to their paperwork, and for a minute Beckett thought she had dodged the bullet until—

"Wait a minute," said Ryan. "Castle's poker buddy Jim? As in James?"

"As in James Patterson?" finished Esposito. "You're on a nickname basis with James Patterson now?"

"Guys, it's really not a big deal."

"No, of course not," shrugged Espo. "It's just Jim, right? You've met one multi-millionaire bestselling author, you've met 'em all."

"Something like that. Now do you mind? I'm trying to get some work done."

"Of course," he said, but she knew this wouldn't be the end of it. After a moment of peace, Ryan proved her right.

"So what's he bringing?" he asked.

"What's who bringing?"

"Jim. What's he bringing to poker night?"

"Um, guacamole. Why?"

"Just wondering." Ryan stood up with a handful of files. "I need to run these down to the second floor. If J.K. calls, ask if she can bring her shrimp dip to movie night."

"Ooo, I hear it's to die for," Espo added enthusiastically. They both grinned at Beckett.

"I know, I know," she conceded. "My life has gotten weird."

Espo returned to his paperwork. "Just as long as you realize that."

* * *

_Do you have suggestions for things they never thought they'd say? Drop me a review or a PM!_


	2. Josh! Good to See You

**A/N: **_I believe this installment extends beyond the bounds of the story and into shipper fandom, since I bet that none of us think we would ever be glad to see Josh again, ever. Except for maybe something like this. ;)_

* * *

**Josh! Good to see you.**

* * *

Kate really hated the smell of this place.

She and Castle were at the hospital to interview a witness, and the distinctive smell of disinfectant on top of something more biological put her senses on edge as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. They were following up on what looked like an open-and-shut case of bar fight plus gun equals dead body. The hospital had called to tell her that the shooter's other, more fortunate victim was awake and in stable condition.

They stopped at the nurse's station to get the room number before heading down the hall. Of course the guy had to be on this floor. She didn't turn her head as they passed a too-familiar room number, and neither did Castle, but each of them could sense the other pointedly not looking.

Castle broached the topic first. "Have you been back here since...since last summer?"

"I had a six-month check-in with my surgeon a while back, but that's the last time."

"Is it hard to be here now?"

Kate looked around. "I'm never going to have warm and fuzzy feelings about the place, but I got a second chance here, and I'm grateful for that." She shot him a sideways smile and brushed his hand in passing as she entered the witness's room. The gesture felt like a "we" to him. _We_ got a second chance.

A nurse was standing at the foot of the bed with the man's chart. Beckett flashed her badge and the woman gave them an update.

"He's been napping on and off all afternoon." She indicated the sleeping patient. "If you give him a few minutes, he should be ready to wake up soon."

"How serious are his injuries?" asked Castle.

"The bullet entered his shoulder. The surgery went well, and he should make a full recovery in time. Hit the call button if you need anything." With a smile, she left the room.

They stood silently near the end of the bed until Kate spoke.

"How about you? When's the last time you were here?" Judging by his subdued demeanor, she knew the answer.

"It was the day you woke up and I grossly misinterpreted the timeline for 'I'll call you.'" He meant it as a joke, but his smile was tinged with remembered hurt.

Kate felt a strong need to remake that memory. "Hey, Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I get a do-over?"

She turned to face him, pulled a business card out of her jacket, and held it between her pointer and middle fingers. Her voice was suddenly velvety smooth. "I just met you four years ago, and this is crazy, but here's my number." She slipped the card slowly into his breast pocket.

This time the smile did reach his eyes. "Please tell me you're going to finish that pop reference."

She rested her hands on his chest and leaned into him. "Call me maybe?"

He grinned in delight. "You are ridiculous. But I'll think about it." He circled his arms around her waist and closed the final inches to her mouth to show her exactly how he felt about ridiculous.

That's how they were standing— Castle's hands bracing her hips and the hint of her tongue in his mouth— when their witness's surgeon walked in and promptly froze at the sight of them.

Since he was facing the door, Castle was the first one to see the new arrival, and he broke off the kiss to respond. "Josh! Good to see you."

Kate closed her eyes and grimaced in a private moment of embarrassment before she schooled her features and turned around. "Josh, hi. So, you're back from Africa."

"Just recently." The doctor looked from Kate to Castle and back but didn't seem ready to form a longer sentence yet.

Castle's pleasure at seeing Josh was genuine. It really was good to see him. More specifically, it was great to see the look on his face. If the writer was any judge of nonverbal communication, Kate's ex had not known they were together until just now, when he'd found them making out in one of his patient's rooms. Awesome! And it wasn't even Castle's birthday.

"So. You two are..." Apparently the man had been too busy saving the world to keep up with celebrity gossip.

"Yeah, we are," Kate confirmed, and Castle resisted the urge to put his arms back around her; she would kill him for that. Instead, he just kept smiling as politely as he could.

Which was to say, not very. Kate thought she would describe it as more of a triumphant smirk. But at least he wasn't thumping his chest or dragging her around by the hair, caveman-style. Given the situation, she would take what she could get.

Grasping for the safer topic of murder, she said, "We're here to get a statement from your patient, as soon as he's conscious."

"Um, I am conscious."

Three sets of eyes turned to look at the source of the voice. Sure enough, the man was watching them with alert interest.

"How long have you been awake?" asked Castle.

"Since just before you two started trading breath mints," the man said.

"Why didn't you say anything?" said Beckett.

He looked from Beckett and Castle to Josh and back. "And miss the show? I'll be stuck in bed for weeks, and my insurance doesn't cover HBO."


	3. Would You Like Fries with That?

**A/N**:_ Many sincere thank you's to all you reviewers! I have truly appreciated reading every piece of feedback. Sorry I haven't responded personally, but I hope that using my spare time to do an update instead is a good excuse. :)_

* * *

**Would you like fries with that?**

* * *

"Look at you two all dolled up." Lanie took in the sight of Beckett and Castle as they came through the front door of Burger Buddy. Kate was wearing a wrap dress, an up hairdo, and fancier heels than usual, and Castle sported a suit and tie. "I'm guessing it wasn't a Netflix night."

"We were just finishing dinner," Kate said as she and Castle threaded their way through the tables, chairs and booths to join Lanie, Ryan and Esposito behind the counter of the fast food restaurant.

Castle held up a small styrofoam box. "Not quite finished, actually. I hold in my hands the best tiramisu in the city."

Espo snagged it before he could protest. "Thanks, you shouldn't have. Ryan, grab us a couple of those plastic sporks, would you?"

Beckett held up her palms to Castle in a disbelieving gesture and said, "You're giving away my dessert now?"

"What? I didn't—"

"Never mind," she cut him off and turned to the ME. "What've we got?"

Castle added, "and what is that intriguing smell?"

"That would be our victim." Lanie stepped aside to give them a clear view of the crime scene, where the bottom half of a body was folded at the waist over a stainless steel tank. "Thirty-seven-year-old David Perlman, assistant manager of this fine dining establishment. Someone dunked him head-first into the deep fryer."

Castle grimaced. "I'm guessing he was not lovin' that."

"Probably not. Burn marks in his throat indicate he was still conscious at the time."

"Time of death?" asked Beckett.

"I'd say between eight and nine this evening."

"According to witness statements, the window— or should I say drive-through window— of opportunity was between 8:15 and 8:45," Esposito said through a mouthful of the five-star dessert he was sharing with Ryan. "You've gotta try this, Beckett, it's amazing."

Beckett ignored the last comment and checked her watch; it wasn't yet eleven. "Isn't Burger Buddy usually open until one a.m.?"

"'Buddy's got your back for a late-night snack attack,'" quoted Ryan.

His partner shook his head in mild disgust. "Way to drink the marketing Kool-Aid, bro."

"What, like you weren't thinking the same thing?" defended Ryan.

"He's right," said Castle. "Everyone within two square miles of a TV, billboard, or Sunday coupon supplement knows that slogan."

"So how does this guy get boiled in oil during open hours without anyone seeing or hearing it?" asked Beckett.

"Apparently it was a slow night," explained Esposito. "There weren't any customers, so the other two employees took an extended smoke break out the side door. They came back inside when they heard a car honking in the drive-through, and they found him like this."

Ryan shook his head. "Like working here isn't bad enough without finding your boss deep-fried."

"That sounds like the voice of experience," said Castle.

"Not the deep-fried boss part, but yeah; six months in high school," Ryan confirmed. "Six months of bad uniforms, bad hours and constantly smelling like grease. But we've all done our time in minimum wage hell, right?"

"Most of us have," added Espo. "Others just skipped straight to tiramisu."

"It's true that I never worked fast food," said Castle, "but I had my starving artist period."

Suddenly there was a loud bell tone. Beckett frowned. "What was that?"

"There's a car pulling into the drive-through lane," said Ryan. "Didn't anyone flip the sign to closed?"

The sound of intercom static erupted from speakers near the drive-through workstation; the headset had apparently been disconnected. _"Hello? Hellooo! Can I get some service here, please?_" an insistent male voice called.

"Apparently they didn't," said Beckett. "Castle, you wanna get that?"

"Why me?"

"Because you're closest to the window. And because the rest of us have actual jobs to do."

"Yeah, here's your chance to gain insight into fast food life," said Esposito. "Isn't that why you're here, for authenticity?"

"If Nikki Heat ever goes undercover in the food service industry, it'll be someplace with better uniforms. Preferably something tight in all the right places..."

Kate gave him a warning look. "Castle, if you ever put Nikki Heat in a Hooters outfit, you will be booking tables for one for the foreseeable future."

Lanie added in an undertone, "I bet you'll have that big bed all to yourself, too."

"Please, I wasn't going to do that," he said. "But tell me, what are your feelings about maid uniforms?"

The staticy voice broke in again. "_Hey, wake up in there! I haven't got all night_!"

"You heard him, he hasn't got all night," said Ryan, and then he found something important to do elsewhere before his fast food vet status got him drafted to help.

"What am I supposed to say?" asked Castle.

"I don't care, just get rid of him," said Beckett. "I don't want my crime scene contaminated."

"Okay..." Castle turned to the intercom system and found the talk button. "Sorry, we're closed."

The car did not pull away. "_Very funny. I'll have a Buddy Burger—_"

"No, seriously," Castle interrupted. "We're closed."

"_The sign says open_."

"Well, we're not."

_"If you're closed, then why are you here?"_

"I'm beginning to ask myself the same question," Castle muttered.

_"What?"_

More loudly, he answered, "I'm with the police. We're investigating a murder."

_"Right. And you just took a few minutes out of your busy CSI schedule to work the drive-through window?"_

"Yes?" Castle was starting to sense that this conversation was not going his way.

The customer was clearly fed up with not being right._ "Listen, you little smart ass. I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I want a Buddy Burger with cheese and some Chicken Tootsies. If you don't quit messing around and get me my damn food, I'm going to call your manager, and he will have you cleaning the grease trap with your toothbrush for the next month. Now are you going to take my order or not?"_

Castle looked to Beckett and silently pleaded for official police assistance, but she just shrugged and suppressed a grin. He was on his own.

_"I'm waiting..._" the voice crackled threateningly.

Castle looked back at where Lanie's assistants were carefully removing the body from its half-submerged state, and he pushed the intercom button again.

"Would you like fries with that?"


	4. Do you mind if I just sleep?

_**A/N**: No season 5 spoilers included, but this was indirectly inspired by one. You know the one._

* * *

**Do you mind if I just sleep?**

* * *

"Remind me why we didn't send Ryan and Esposito on this errand instead?" Castle shifted again in the passenger seat of Beckett's Crown Vic, trying to get comfortable. It had been a more or less losing effort for the last 45 minutes.

"For one thing, _we_ don't send them anywhere, since last time I checked, only one of us actually works for the City of New York." Beckett glanced over with a pointed look.

"Okay," Castle conceded, "so remind me why _you_, in all your official and supervisory glory, did not send the boys on this three-hour tour to New Jersey on a Saturday night. I thought we had plans."

"We did," she said apologetically. "But it's Jenny's grandma's birthday, so there's a family thing for the Ryans."

"With all due respect to Irish America, isn't there always?"

"I was feeling generous. Anyway, our Xbox dance-off will keep until tomorrow."

"This part is just so anti-climactic," Castle complained. "Murder solved, bad guy caught. You will never read a chapter where Nikki and Rook drive to Jersey and back playing jailbird taxi. Completely skews the flow of the denouement."

"Sorry if I'm boring you, Castle. You didn't have to come, you know."

"Of course I did. You would never let me hear the end of it if I bailed."

She grinned. "True. Besides, if anyone is going to skew your denouement on a Saturday night, it better be me."

For a few seconds Castle could only look over at her in admiration. His girlfriend had just turned literary structure into a double entendre while acting all possessive. So. Hot.

His hand was headed for her thigh of its own volition when a third voice broke in. "Day-noo-mow, is that French for yer wing-ding? 'Cause this sounds kinda dirty. Not that I mind."

Castle and Beckett blinked at each other in mutual surprise; they had momentarily forgotten about their passenger, a second-rate hit man named Tony Scarpino. Castle returned his hands to his own airspace with a silent sigh, and Beckett looked at Scarpino in the rearview mirror.

"No, it's French for 'the part where the bad guy contemplates the error of his ways in complete silence'."

"Well, pardon me for wanting to improve my vocabulary." Their "guest" leaned back, closed his eyes and crossed his arms in pouting silence.

Kate glanced over to see Castle open his eyes from a very slow blink. "Tired?"

"Mmm," he hummed by way of confirmation. "Nikki kept me up until all hours last night. And once I did get to bed, I seem to recall she had a tag team partner who took over the no-sleep-for-Castle duties."

"Girls gotta stick together," Kate answered with a grin.

He looked at the dashboard clock, which already read after midnight. "How long until we get back?"

"About two hours."

"Do you mind if I just sleep?" His slow blink had already morphed into closed eyes.

"No, not at all."

"Okay, thanks," he mumbled. He was halfway gone already, but something about Kate's carefully neutral tone triggered a subconscious warning bell and kept him from falling blissfully asleep. When his conscious mind finally caught up a moment later, his eyes shot open.

"Wait!" He jerked his head over to look at Kate, who was smiling triumphantly.

"Too late."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No fair! That was completely out of context!"

"Context was not in the rules, baby." He would usually get a thrill from her rare use of an endearment in a work setting, but in this case he recognized it as a taunt. "Three entries each, first one to use a phrase from the list loses. And that, Mr. Castle, was number 4."

"I can't believe it," Castle grumbled. "I thought for sure you'd cave on number 5: 'the floor is too cold'."

She shrugged. "It's your own fault for having floorboard heating in the loft. Surprisingly comfortable for hardwood. And honestly, putting "headache" as your number 1? So cliché. That was just phoning it in."

It was his turn to shrug. "What can I say? I respect the classics. I've been eyewitness to the classics many times."

"Not with me," she countered.

"No. Not with you."

Kate turned away from the road for a long second to meet the gaze that went with his statement. His face was loaded with such a heady mixture of love, humor, admiration, and pride that she actually felt a little light-headed when she returned her eyes to the dotted lines rolling by.

"So when do you plan on cashing in your chips?" he asked, grudgingly accepting the loss.

"Oh, I'm in no hurry. I think I'll save them for the holiday season."

Castle groaned. Beckett was now the proud owner of not one, not two, but three freetime veto overrides. On three separate occasions of her choosing, she could suggest an outing and override his objections. Their tastes often lined up, but not when it came to cheesy Christmas-themed romantic comedies.

Beckett was still smiling when Castle's exhaustion overtook him once more and his head gently lolled to one side, facing her. Three overrides (and more importantly, bragging rights) were hers on a technicality, but without actually breaking their streak. Win-win. Neither of them had ever played an excuse card to turn down sex, and she suspected this fact would not change anytime soon. Call them insatiable, or call them competitive, but Kate thought it was more like mutually intuitive; both of them knew when it was a good moment. Or when it was the right bad moment.

Eventually the streak would end; Kate knew this. That was reality. But she imagined three hours into the future, after their passenger was delivered, when she would pull him bleary-eyed into the loft. She took into consideration her natural high after a case wrapped up, how suggestible he was when half-asleep, and how very hot she found his stubble, both visually and... experientially.

The streak would not end tonight.


	5. Would you please just kick my

_Because Mom and Dad can't have all the fun. Just most. ;)_

* * *

**Would you please just kick my ass?**

* * *

"Is this the place?" Ryan asked, looking through the windshield of the parked car at the dive bar across the street.

"This is it," Esposito confirmed, double-checking his notebook. "Reggie's Tavern. This is where the suspect claims he was the night of the murder."

"Not one of New York's finer establishments," Ryan observed. The windows were filled with faded posters promising music from cover bands that had long since broken up, the sidewalk was littered with trash and puddles of don't-ask-what, and a buzzing sign over the door currently read "Reggi 's vern" in half-hearted neon. "At least it seems quiet tonight."

"Let's hope it stays that way long enough for us to get what we came for," said Esposito, and they both got out of the car and stepped out of sight down the nearest alley.

Ryan went over the facts. "Carlson claims he was here from 9 until close last night, and his buddies confirmed his alibi when Beckett came calling earlier. They swear he was part of the knockdown, drag-out, all-bar fight that went down, and that's where he got his injuries."

"But Beckett and Castle are convinced he's our killer, so if he wasn't really here, we need to make his buddies roll over on him," Espo finished. Both detectives wore street clothes, but that wouldn't be quite enough cover for this mission.

"Here's what I'm thinking," Espo continued. "I'll go in as a very disgruntled member of Los Machetes and demand to know where Carlson is. I'll say someone fingered him as the guy who planted a black eye on me last night when my street brothers weren't around to back me up. If his friends want to help him keep all his parts attached, they'll fess up if he wasn't really there."

"Won't they just lie to save his fingers? How will that help us?"

"Not a problem," answered Esposito. "I'll throw in a little bonus threat to come after them next if I find out they're lying. Gangs with machetes are crazy effective when it comes to persuasion. All I need is a black eye."

Ryan still looked doubtful, but his partner was confident. "C'mon, just go with it. It's a good plan, it'll work."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Ryan.

"Yeah I'm sure," said Esposito with the bravado of a soldier preparing for battle. "Let's roll." He squared his shoulders, set his chin, and waited. Ryan looked uneasy.

His partner grew impatient. "C'mon, bro, we haven't got all night. And we'll need to wait at least a few hours for it to show up before I can go in."

"Okay, okay," Ryan said. He set his feet in a fighting stance, pivoted back, and brought his fist to his shoulder. He took a deep breath and—

"Can't we just use makeup?"

"Damn it, man!" Esposito exclaimed, and threw up his hands. "Would you please just kick my ass? I need real damage or they won't buy it."

"I'm sorry, okay? It just feels weird to hit someone out of the blue. Especially my own partner."

"You didn't have a problem last time," mumbled Esposito under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

Espo narrowed his eyes and spoke up. "Last time. When you ratted me and Beckett out to Gates. You didn't seem to have any trouble smacking me down then. I guess it's easier to do behind my back."

Ryan's mouth tightened. "I knew it! I knew you were still mad. You told me you understood. You said we were cool now. Beckett thanked me for saving her life!"

"Yeah, so?"

"So what is your problem?"

"I don't have one!" By this point, both men were yelling.

"Fine!"

"So man up and hit me!"

"Fine!" Ryan drew back and punched his partner square in the eye.

Esposito staggered back, recovered, and with a grim smile he said, "Not bad."

Then he punched him back.

Ryan was caught off guard and landed square on his ass. It only took a moment for him to get his feet under him, and with his center of gravity held low, he tackled Esposito, who fell to the ground with a surprised grunt.

From there the fight devolved into a full-fledged back alley brawl. No words were exchanged— nothing intelligible, anyway— but if Castle had witnessed it, he could have written an entire chapter on what they were not saying. After several minutes of grappling, punching, pinning and rolling, of fists, knees and elbows, both men realized that the pent-up remains of their anger and betrayal were spent. Espo loosened the headlock he had on Ryan, and Ryan slowed his kidney punches until they stopped entirely. They both finally collapsed onto the curb, sitting side-by-side with only the sounds of their labored breathing. Ironically, it was the first time since that fateful day in May that the silence did not feel strained.

Esposito tenderly palpated the swollen tissue around his left eye. He also ran his tongue over his split bottom lip.

"This should be convincing," he deadpanned.

Ryan shot him a sideways glance and cracked a smile. "Yeah, that should do it."

"It'll need a little time to look good and bruised. Wanna go find some chili fries while we wait?"

"Sure. You can help me figure out how to explain to Jenny why I'll look like the bad end of a bar fight for date night tomorrow." Ryan stood and offered his partner a hand up, bloody knuckles and all. After a moment of eye contact that contained a second chapter, Espo took it.

* * *

Castle looked over the murder board one more time and suppressed a yawn. He and Beckett were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the edge of a nearby desk, and she was subtly leaning into him. He brought his hand up to absentmindedly massage her neck at the base of her skull, which was not so subtle, but it was almost midnight, and Gates was gone. Besides, it felt too good to stop him for the sake of professionalism when the bullpen was almost deserted.

Castle reviewed the state of the case. "So Carlson has a solid motive, Lanie's findings indicate our vic was stabbed by someone of his height and weight, and the timeline works out if his alibi is phony. What's keeping Ryan and Esposito?"

Kate closed her eyes and instinctively rolled her head back toward his hand. "They checked in about an hour ago to say they were finally heading into Reggie's. They had some sort of plan they didn't want to tell me about, so who knows."

"That sounds ominous."

"Well, you aren't with them, so at least they probably won't do anything too...stupid..." Beckett had turned her head toward the sound of the elevator arriving, and she trailed off at the sight that greeted her.

Esposito and Ryan were leading Mr. Carlson towards them in handcuffs. The suspect was unharmed, but the detectives looked like hell: black eyes, cut lips, and clothes that looked like they had shared a dryer cycle with a dead squirrel. The two men hadn't looked so happy in months.

Espo slapped Ryan on the the back (he winced) and turned to grin triumphantly at Castle and Beckett. "So guess whose alibi fell apart upon further examination?"

"What was the plan," asked Castle, "beat yourselves up until he confessed?"

"It was brilliant!" Ryan gushed. "Javi totally had this guy's buddies believing that a machete-wielding gangbanger would cut off his hands if he'd actualy been part of the fight at Reggie's last night. All we had to do was go pick him up at home."

"I wouldn't say brilliant— but if you insist," Esposito added with a poor attempt at humility. "We just need to ask Mr. Carlson here if he'd like to revise his statement before we book him. Care to do the honors, boss?"

Carlson spoke up for the first time. "Yes, please, save me from another hour of commercial-free bromance."

Beckett ignored the prisoner's comments. "Sure, Espo, I'll be right there." The battered detectives led the man in for questioning, laughing and recapping the evening all the way.

Beckett and Castle exchanged raised eyebrows. "Looks like the boys finally made up," he commented.

"Looks like it."

After a moment, Castle ventured, "Hey, Beckett?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember that time we had a big fight, then we had lots of fantastic make-up sex afterwards?"

"That time two days ago?" Her lips quirked in a small I'm-humoring-Castle smile. "Yeah..."

"That option works for me. For future making-up reference, let's stick with that one."

"Agreed."

* * *

_A/N: You Criminal Minds fans may have noticed that yes, I totally stole a fictional gang from CM._


End file.
